


The Next Adventure

by komorebi_yugen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore is way too perceptive, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, Character is a little shit, Fillius Flitwick is the ✨favorite✨, Gen, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, How Do I Tag, I don’t know probably not, I’ll see how this goes, No seriously how do I tag, Ron Weasley is Our King, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, but we’ll see, hes gonna get roasted over an open fire, he’s in Slytherin, im not sure where I’m going with this, maybe Character/ Hermione?, so that tells you a lot, voldemort better watch out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komorebi_yugen/pseuds/komorebi_yugen
Summary: In the words of the great Albus Dumbledore, "After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."Benjamin Flynn is on his second life, and he calls bullshit.OR: Dude gets reborn into the Harry Potter world,  goes to Hogwarts, and tries not to die (again).
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	1. Prologue

If there’s one thing Benjamin Flynn is absolutely certain of, it’s the fact that his grandmother is the smartest person he knows. And while he has no intention of ever questioning her decisions, he wonders if she might have possibly lost her mind.

After all, she’d just told him that he was a wizard. As in,”Yer’ a wizard, Harry. ” , as in, “ Benjamin, you can do magic, and while you are quite a bright young man, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to not learn whatever you can about your powers, so I’m sending you off to the wizarding school that they apparently send all magical children to, Hogwarts or some such, and I expect you to not blow up things that annoy you by the time you’ve finished, at the very least.”

She’d said all of this in one breath, taking the tuna casserole out of the oven, a few wisps of hair falling out of her tight bun and onto her face, and him sitting at the dining table with his mouth hanging open.

He’d almost burst out laughing, but that would have been met with a stern look and the light smack of a wooden spoon to his arm, so he reluctantly closed his mouth and waited for whatever she says next.

She turned towards him with the casserole in her hands, placing it in the middle of the table, “ Now, this might be quite a shock to you,” she said, scooping out portions into two plates, “ but you’ll believe me tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”, he muttered flatly, observing her eyes for any signs of possible insanity.

“Yes.”

“As in, my birthday tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“What?”

______________________________________________________

This definitely isn’t what he signed up for in his second life, to be a wizard in Harry Potter, of all things.

Bloody hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fanfic!  
> Also, this isn’t an SI, just an oc I wanted to write into Harry Potter. Right now, I’m not really sure how much of the plot I’m going to change, if any, but I hope you guys enjoy this first chapter for now;) 
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome!


	2. Chapter One

When Benjamin realizes he is on his second life, he was six years old and Grandmother had bought him a Winnie the Pooh coloring book as a prize for weeding out the flower bed.

It hit him suddenly, without warning, the rush of memories taking up what little space he had in his underdeveloped brain, until his legs weakened and he fell on his butt.

_Thunk._

He died. He had died. And now he was alive. Again.

Benjamin put his hand to his head, groaning, his heart beating abnormally fast .

Grandmother had panicked a bit, rushing him to the hospital, where the doctors checked him over and diagnosed him with a mild headache, prescribing him some good ol’ bed rest.

The ride home Grandmother buys him ice cream, and he’d tried to enjoy it, his eyes blank and distant, and the ice cream dripping down his chin. His coloring book is still in his hand, his fingers gripping it so hard his knuckles turn white.

He doesn’t even try to sleep that night, reviewing his past life until sleep slowly creeps up on him, dreaming of his memories.

_(His) goals are realistic, education, graduation, occupation. Maybe vacation, if he has time._

_(His) love of reading outweighs (his) love of people. (He’s) a favorite of many teachers._

_(His) brother smiling down on him, eyes crinkling closed, his teeth flashing. He always was the better looking one._

_(He) works at a publishing firm, editing the works of aspiring authors. (He) wishes he was imaginative enough to be one._

_(His) friends, coming and going. (His) family, loving and supportive.(His) life, good but boring. (He’s) grateful. (He’s) happy. Maybe._

_And then (He) dies. Suddenly. A car goes too fast. (He) realizes too late. (He’s) bleeding onto the concrete, in pain. People try to help, they don’t know how. The ambulance comes._

_(He’s) dead._

Or not.

_____________________________________________

The next morning Benjamin wakes up the same person, but with a bit more memories than the average six year old should have.

This should be fun.


	3. Chapter Two

The man in front of Benjamin is short, exceedingly so, with wild white hair and a pointed hat.

He was also holding out a letter.

“I am Professor Fillius Flitwick.”, he introduced himself, his small hand going up to adjust his glasses. “I have come to welcome you to _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_.”

Today was Benjamin’s 11th birthday, and while he would have loved nothing more than to continue sleeping, the implication of today forced him to rise a bit earlier than usual. So, with Grandmother fussing over him, he’d reluctantly dressed and had breakfast, a knot tightening itself in his stomach with every passing minute.

And now here he was, standing in-front of a supposedly fictional character.

Benjamin took the letter, not quite missing his grandmother’s pointed look, ” Do professors personally welcome every new student, or am I just special?”

Flitwick smiled, his eyes filled with mirth, ”As you are a new student raised in a non-magical household, it is our job to make sure that you are suitably comfortable, and that any questions you may have are correctly answered.”

Grandmother nodded, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

Benjamin furrowed his brows, and opening the letter slowly, read it aloud.

_“HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY,_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Flynn,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,  
Deputy Headmistress.”_

Benjamin bit back a sigh, wondering how he could have possibly gotten himself into this mess. Nothing he ever did in his past life quite warranted this special breed of punishment. He was a good, law-abiding citizen, for god’s sake!

“ Now, I’m sure you have many questions,” Flitwick clapped his hands together, his mustache twitching with his words.

“My daughter-in-law said that you posses a different form of currency,” Grandmother said,” I’d like to know how to exchange our money into yours.”

And that was another thing, Grandmother had explained last night that his mother was a Squib, and that she had told Benjamin’s father and Grandmother of her magical upbringing when she’d married his father. Something about not wanting to keep secrets from them or something.

 _‘ I’m pretty sure that was a violation of The Statue of Secrecy, but the Ministry must not have realized, or Grandmother wouldn’t have had any of this knowledge.’_ , Benjamin thought , wondering if his life would have been easier if Grandmother had been Obliviated.

Why she even believed his mother was another story, one she said she would tell him at a later time, to his chagrin.

Flitwick explained that the wizard bank, _Gringotts_ , would take care of their monetary needs, and that _Diagon Alley_ was where they could find all his schoolwork equipment. Grandmother grilled him on the best places to buy everything, occasionally reminding the professor that they weren’t made of money, you know, so make sure to keep that in mind.

Benjamin tried to concentrate on their words, but everything felt a little fuzzy, as if he’d only just woken up, trying to make sense of the world around him. He vaguely heard Flitwick give Grandmother directions to where they could find _Diagon Alley_ , and how it was enchanted to keep away Muggles, before he spoke up.

“Is it required?”

They turned towards him, Grandmother with her hands in the air, paused from her wild habitual gesturing, and Flitwick, adjusting his glasses, his eyes giving way to bemusement.

“Whatever do you mean, my boy?”, the professor asked.

“I mean, is it required to attend... _Hogwarts_?”, Benjamin questioned, shuffling his feet. He doesn’t look at his Grandmother, but he’s sure she’s furious .

Flitwick seems confused by him, but that’s understandable. He doubts anyone ever wanted to not go to Hogwarts.

“Well, I suppose it _is_ required. After all, we can’t have underage witches and wizards running around not knowing how to control their powers. Think of the chaos, think of the overworked Obliviators.” Flitwick stated all of this in a matter of fact tone of voice, nodding to himself.

Benjamin looked to his Grandmother, who looked a little irritated, “ Well, I only wanted to make sure, sir, so you don’t need to worry about me not attending.”

Flitwick smiled, “ Yes, yes. I’m glad. I’m sure you’ll be an exemplary student, Mr.Flynn. I have a feeling you’ll enjoy _Hogwarts_.”

He hadn’t stayed long after that, helping put all their affairs in order, before bidding them goodbye, his robe swishing about his small frame before disappearing through the door.

_____________________________________________

The next day, Benjamin is in _Diagon Alley_ , feeling overwhelmed, and not for the first time, realizes he’s in way over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Diagon Alley! ;)


	4. Chapter Three

The first thing Benjamin notices as he steps into _Diagon Alley_ , is the noise. Wizards and Witches alike bustling about, some shouting over the din, their combined voices blending together into a reverberating hum.

He almost turns around right then and there, but Tom- the innkeeper-, the one who so kindly opened the brick wall so they could get to the Alley, bid them goodbye, his bald head shining in the light.

Grandmother had turned up her nose at the _Leaky Cauldron_ when she’d walked in, evidently unimpressed by the shabby inn, with its dark appearance and shady looking customers, but nonetheless she thanked the barman, her eyes looking over the crowded Alley.

“Where do we even start?”, Benjamin wondered aloud, looking over the list of required equipment,”After _Gringotts_ , I mean.”

“We should start with your uniform first, get it out of the way.” Grandmother replied, pushing through the throng, muttering to herself regarding the directions Professor Flitwick had given her the day before. Benjamin grabbed onto her sleeve, not wanting to get separated.

Although _Diagon Alley_ was crowded, it had a certain organized chaos to it, everyone knowing exactly where to go and how to get there. He spotted a few kids with their guardians passing by, seemingly with the same objective as him and Grandmother. Most of them seem to already know about magic, not quite gawping as much as Benjamin is sure he is.

When they eventually reach the entrance of _Gringotts the Wizards Bank_ , Benjamin had resigned himself to the fact that this was real, this was happening, and that there wasn’t really anything he could do about it except suck it up.

He was gonna be a wizard, and he was gonna be damn good at it too.

_____________________________

_“Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn,  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.”_

Benjamin passed the eerie warning ( poem?) engraved at the entrance, hearing the double doors close behind him. He wondered why goblins ran the wizard bank, especially since they seemed to despise them. Were they being paid? Did they enjoy controlling the money? But then again, why were wizards stupid enough to hand over their money to the goblins.

He has a feeling wizards don’t really know much about common sense. Must be the magic muddling their brains.

The rest of the tour went by in a blur, Grandmother having exchanged their money into _galleons_ , they visited shop after shop, buying everything Benjamin will need for a year at Hogwarts. Exploring _Flourish & Blotts _was certainly an experience, the bookshop possessing a collection to satisfy any bookworm’s dreams. He had himself measured and prodded at _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ , where Madame Malkin and her assistants tailored his robes into a perfect fit.

 _The Magical Menagerie_ took a bit more time, Benjamin wanting to pick an owl he was sure he would like. After scouring the smelly shop, he eventually chose a young barn owl that seemed to have taken a liking to him, staring at him with creepily focused eyes from his perch on the rafters. He named him Ibis, which is owl in latin, so, not very original.

It was amusing seeing Ibis settle himself onto Grandmother’s shoulder, and although she tried to shoo him off, her lips were twitching into a smile.

Finally, after purchasing everything on the list, they reached _Ollivanders_ , the place Benjamin was most looking forward to. He felt a tingling in his fingertips, excitement coursing through him. It was time.

He was getting a wand.

_____________________

Although Grandmother had wanted to enter the wand shop with him, she had taken one look at the dust and general mustiness of the store, scrunched her nose, and decided it wasn’t worth her asthma acting up.

Benjamin entered, musing on what his wand might be. He remembered that wandlore was an interesting part of the Harry Potter fandom, people even taking quizzes to find out what kind of wand they might have.

The shop was just as he imagined it, boxes of wands lining the walls, filling the shelves to the verge of overflowing. Everything was covered in a layer of dirt, the beams of light coming through the small window illuminating the dancing dust motes in the air. He glanced around, looking for a sign of the eccentric wand maker.

“Now what do we have here?”, Benjamin jumped, looking to his right,-where the whispery voice had come from. Ollivander was observing him, his pale eyes flicking across his face.

“I’ve come for a wand, sir.”, Benjamin explained, watching as a tape measure floated towards him and bumped into him until he stretched out his arms.

“Your wand arm?”, Ollivander inquired, shuffling over to a pile of narrow boxes to the side.

“My right.”, Benjamin replied, the tape measuring his nostrils. He wondered how his nose could possibly effect his wand.

Ollivander hummed, flicking his hand. The tape measure stopped, then flew over to the wand maker, who caught it and looked it over. He plucked a box from the top of the pile next to him, opening it and offering it to Benjamin.

“Yew with a unicorn hair core, 11 inches, firm.”

Benjamin takes the wand, but before he can even wave it, Ollivander snatches it back.

“No, no. That isn’t right.”, he murmurs, placing it back into its box. He turns and makes his way to the back of the narrow room, perusing the shelves before grabbing another wand, once again presenting it to Benjamin.

“Laurel wood with a dragon-heartstring core, 9 inches, bendy.”

Benjamin waves the wand, feeling the hair on his arm stand on end. Something explodes in the back of the store, shaking the shelves. He hurriedly places it back in the box, “That didn’t feel right.”

“Indeed.”, Ollivander muses wryly.

They continue this for the better part of the hour, Grandmother peeking her head in every once in awhile to check up on him. Benjamin suspects Ollivander is enjoying the challenge, the wand maker flitting about the shop, looking suspiciously sprightly for a man on in years.

He’s about ready to call it quits, coming to terms with the fact that, no, he won’t be going to _Hogwarts_ ,-feeling annoyed with himself for getting his hopes up.

“Beech wood, Phoenix-feather core, 10 and a half inches,” Ollivander declares, his eyes surveying the wand in his hand, a peculiar note in his voice,”determined.”

Benjamin knows it’s the right wand immediately when he touches it, a surge of something warm and cool and _magical_ swirling in his body, in his heart. He waves it, and the tip brightens up into a light that’s almost blinding, before dimming back into nothing.

He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Ollivander smiles, his eyes twinkling,”That wand has been here since I was a boy, not quite matching with anyone . Beech is a subtle wood, and likes their possessors wise beyond their years. Phoenix-feather makes for a powerful core, and will serve you well in your magical endeavors.”

Benjamin grips his wand, his fingers encircling it comfortably, ”What does determined mean?”.

“Wands with determination are steadfast and persevering,”Ollivander answers, his hand slowly stroking his wild beard,”it simply means that they understand what it is their possessors desire, and will do their best to achieve whatever those ends may be.”

“It must have been impressed in whatever it may have seen in you, for it to choose you after rejecting the countless other aspiring wizards to come by.”, Ollivander states, leaning in.

_”After all, the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Flynn.”_

_______________________________

It’s only after he’s home, drunk on excitement and clutching his new wand, does Benjamin realize he never told Ollivander his name.


	5. Chapter Four

King’s Cross Station isn’t as full as Benjamin expected it to be, few people rushing past him, probably on their way to work, none of them stopping to take in the strange site of his cart. Ibis is in a cage, the rest of his luggage packed into a couple trunks, his violin case safely strapped to his back.

Grandmother had encouraged him to bring his instrument along, informing him that even if he was learning magic, he still had to practice. Benjamin packed it begrudgingly, highly doubting he would even have time to play it. 

“Are you ready?”, Grandmother asked, her hand on his shoulder. 

Benjamin nodded,”As ready as I’ll ever be, really.” 

He turned around to face her, ”All I have to do is walk through that wall,”, he pointed towards the column between platform nine and ten, ”no big deal.” .

So he was sassing her, sue him.

Grandmother gave him the stink eye, apparently unimpressed with his sarcasm.

“That professor said it was perfectly safe,”, she said,” believe me, I practically had to interrogate him on it.”

Benjamin huffed out a laugh, remembering poor Flitwick’s face as Grandmother grilled him for all the information she could get out of him before he left. He had a feeling the professor wouldn’t visit again. 

“I expect you to get top grades,”, Grandmother spoke up over the noise of a passing train,” and I better not hear about you getting into trouble. Understand?”.

Benjamin mock saluted, very much understanding,”Yes ma’am.”. 

She scrutinized him, making sure he wasn’t a mess. He wasn’t, thank you very much.

She straightened, looking down onto him,”And remember, you’re a Flynn. I expect you to live up to the name, even in a magical world.”.

Benjamin wasn’t really sure what being a Flynn entailed exactly, but he wasn’t about to argue about family pride, so he hugged her, and with one last goodbye, made his way to the pillar.

He gave one last look behind him before walking through the brick wall, and gave his Grandmother a smile upon noticing her misty eyes, reassuring her. After all, he was gonna be away for most of the year, and Grandmother didn’t really have any one but him. He didn’t have anyone but her either.

____________________________________

He briefly felt something rippling across his skin, sliding over him as he walked through the wall onto platform nine and three quarters. He wonders what would happen if a particularly clumsy muggle happened to bump into the pillar. Are there magic sensors imbued into the wall? Would it stop them from entering? It didn’t seem like a good idea to have the only method of transportation to a magical school in a muggle train station. Does nobody ever notice the influx of children roaming around with owl cages, or is that the work of magic too? 

Perhaps that was the lack of common sense in the wizarding world coming into play. Or maybe it was the notice-me-not charm.

The platform is a bustling place, families gathering to say their goodbyes to first time students and senior students alike. Benjamin weaves his way through the mass, making his way to the train. It’s an impressive thing, the locomotive, shiny and new-looking, although he knows it’s the work of magic. He sees steam escaping through the top, so, possibly steam-powered. Unless it ran on magic, and the steam was just for show. He wouldn’t put it past them.

He unloads his cart on the platform, near the back of the train, where a couple workers haul the luggage into it. He tells Ibis he’ll see him later, promising him a treat for his patience. The owl looks unimpressed, seemingly unbothered. Benjamin has a feeling they’ll get along swimmingly. 

It’s as he enters the train that he hears it, the nagging voice of a mother, unmistakable,”Now George and Fred, I want you two on your best behavior this year. I don’t want to hear anything about dung-bombs, or hexing Slytherins in the halls.”

“Yeah, well, what if they deserve it?”

“Even if they deserve it, I don’t want professor McGonagall  
sending me an owl, saying you’ve been making a ruckus!”

“Of course, Mum-“

“We’ll be on our-“

“Best behavior.”

Benjamin can practically hear their impish,(and identical), grins, and Mrs. Weasley’s exasperation. He steps fully onto the train, hoping beyond hope that he doesn’t bump into them. Hoping he can get through the year (years?) without having to interact so much with any of the main cast.

‘Please let me just be a background character.’, he pleads.

‘Please.’

_________________________________________

He should have known better, Benjamin berates himself. 

After all, he couldn’t exactly tell the boy-who-lived, -Harry Potter-, to beat it after he asked so nicely if he could ‘please enter the compartment, everywhere else is full’, now could he? 

There’s someone out to get him, isn’t there?


	6. Chapter Five

“So,”, Benjamin starts, helping him with his trunk, “what’s your name?”

Harry Potter takes a seat, looking a little awkward. He pushes a strand of his messy, black hair out of his eyes before answering. 

“Um, I’m Harry Potter,”, he says, shrugging, ”I’m a bit new to all this.”

Benjamin nods,”Yeah, I feel you. I only just recently found out about everything. Magic, I mean. I’m Benjamin Flynn, by the way.”, he introduces himself, stretching out a hand. Harry takes it, giving it a shake.  
  
“So, are you muggleborn too?”, Benjamin asks, just for the sake of asking. Small talk isn’t his favorite thing, but that hardly matters right now. He’s sitting in front of Harry fucking Potter, and damn him if he doesn’t at least talk to the kid.

Harry adjusts his glasses, ”Not really. My parents were wizards,” he makes a face,”I grew up with my aunt and uncle, and they’re muggles.”

Benjamin hums, remembering the Dursleys, and their horrible treatment of Harry. Having him live in the cupboard under the stairs, neglecting him.

It’s a wonder the kid turned out okay. Or at least... semi-okay.

“You know, I feel like I’ve heard your name somewhere.”, Benjamin tells him, opening his copy of _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,_ —he’d been reading it before Harry arrived—, flipping to the chapter detailing ‘ _You-Know-Who’s Defeat’._

He presents the book to Harry, “See? You’re right there.” He points at a passage, watching as the boy-who-lived furrows his brows. It must be strange finding out you’re in magical schoolbooks, especially when you’ve had no prior knowledge of magic even existing before that point. Yeah, Benjamin realizes the irony of that, considering his situation. 

It’s at that moment that Ron Weasley slides open the compartment door, his trunk behind him. 

“Can I sit here?”, he asks, adjusting his grip on the trunk, “Everywhere else is packed.”

“Yeah, sure.”, Harry stands up, helping Ron lift his trunk onto the rack above them. Benjamin closes the book, placing it next to him.

“I’m Ron Weasley.”, he voices, sitting in the spot beside Harry, darting looks at him.

“Harry Potter.”, he says, “Nice to meet you.”

Ron gasps, his eyes widening,”I _knew_ it! Fred and George said you were on the train, but I almost didn’t believe them.”

“Do you have,—you know?”, he gestured to his forehead.

Harry lifts up his hair, revealing a small lightning-bolt shaped scar. Benjamin straightens in his seat, trailing his eyes across it. This is the infamous mark that Voldemort left in his wake, having failed to kill Harry. He realizes again the things that are to come, already feeling wisps of dread creeping up on him.

“Wicked.”, Ron breathes out. 

“Well, I’m Benjamin Flynn. Thanks for asking.”, Benjamin announced, amused by the ginger’s fascination. His ignorance. Though he can hardly blame him for the lack of tact. He definitely doesn’t envy Harry, if this is how everyone acts when they encounter him. 

“Oh yeah. Pleased to meet you.”, Ron says sheepishly, scratching his head, “Its just that he’s famous, you know.”

Benjamin smiles wryly, “Yeah, I gathered. Though he probably only just found out. He was raised by muggles.”

“Really?”, the red head exclaims,”What are they like? My dad thinks they’re great, he’s practically obsessed with them. Thinks they’re fascinating.”

“Well, they’re normal.”, Harry explains, shifting in his seat, glad for the subject change, “They never said anything about magic, though, even though my parents were magical.”

“Maybe they don’t like wizards.”

“People are always afraid of what they don’t understand.”, Benjamin said, “ My mother was a Squib, but she still told my dad about magic.”

“Was?”,Harry asked.

“They passed away when I was a baby. My grandmother raised me.”

“Oh—,sorry.”, Harry apologizes, looking uncomfortable. 

Benjamin chuckled, “It’s fine. I never really knew them.”

“Do you have any siblings?”, Ron asks, “I have five brothers and a sister. I’m the youngest boy, so I always get their hand-me-downs, as you can see.”, he sighed, gesturing to his robes. They’re were clean, but otherwise ill-fitting and threadbare.

The door slowly slides open, a middle-aged woman poking her head in.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”, she asks.

“No thanks,”, Ron answers, holding up a vague looking packet, “I’m all set.” Benjamin is pretty sure it’s a sandwich, although a little crumbly. He shakes his head at the trolley-lady,(Is that what she is? He’s not sure, but he’s probably wrong.), not really having much to spend on sweets. He’d figured since there wasn’t any trips to _Hogsmeade_ ,—in their first year, at least,— that he wouldn’t need to bring any money.

Harry hesitates for a second, contemplating something. He seems to make up his mind, digging into his pocket and pulling out a couple galleons.

“We’ll take the lot.”

Wow, Harry, way to leave nothing for the rest of the train.

  
______________________________________________________

Benjamin plops one of the _Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans_ into his mouth, frowning as he tastes cauliflower. He _hates_ cauliflower. It certainly has no business being a candy flavor.

“Chocolate frogs?”, Harry questions, holding up a box with a visibly moving frog struggling inside.”They’re not really frogs, right?”

“No, they’re just charmed so they can move.”, Ron explains, his face stuffed with various sweets. Scabbers is on his lap, digging into a box of gummy worms. 

Benjamin tells himself he can’t really do anything about the _Animagus_. Yet. He has every intention of destroying the little traitor. He just has to learn some actual magic first. 

“Besides, it’s the cards inside that you want.”, Ron continues, “I’ve got about a 1,000 or so.”

Benjamin looks on as Harry opens his box, the chocolate frog quickly making its escape through the window. Harry makes a face, annoyed, and pulls out a card from inside.

“Hey, I’ve got Dumbledore!”, he exclaims, scanning it over.

“I’ve got about six of him,”, Ron says, ”he’s pretty common.”

“Looks like I got Cornelius Fudge.”, Benjamin adds, having opened one himself. The wizard in the photo winks at him, giving him a wave. Benjamin had never liked him, he’d never been able to bear his dismissal of Voldemort’s return. He’d paid for it, in the end.

“That’s the Minister of Magic, you know.”, Ron explains, chewing on a jelly worm, ”My dad works for him.”

“Hey, Dumbledore’s gone!”, Harry voiced, his eyes wide. Benjamin watched his own card , but Fudge seemed comfortable enough to stay where he was.

“Well, you can’t expect him to stay in one place, can you?”, Ron snorted, ”Have you never seen a picture before?”

“We have. It’s just that the ones we saw didn’t move around however they pleased.”, Benjamin responded, raising an eyebrow towards Harry, who smiled faintly. 

Ron lets out a “Huh.”, biting into a Cauldron Cake. 

“So...., do either of you know any spells?”, Harry asks, “I don’t know any, but I’m not sure if we need to before we start.”

“Like the basics?”, Benjamin suggests. Harry nods. 

“I don’t know any either, but I did read all the books. You know, just to get a head-start.”

“Fred and George taught me one!”, Ron adds, brandishing his wand, “I don’t know if it works though. I haven’t tried it yet.”

Before he can start, however, someone knocks on the door, and whoever it is doesn’t wait for an answer, sliding it open not two seconds later. 

A girl stands at the door, hand on her hip; Her hugely bushy hair and larger than average front teeth making it obvious who she is.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Nevilles lost his.”, she questions, her eyes appraising them. Her gaze lands on Ron’s wand.

“Oh! You’re doing magic! Let’s see it then.”

Ron paused, glancing towards the other two boys. Harry shrugs and Benjamin quirks a brow, spurring him on.

“Well...,alright.”, he clears his throat, pointing the wand at the rodent on his lap.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!”  
  
_Zap_!

Scabbers squeaks, startling out of the box he’d been eating from, and scurries into his owner’s coat. His whiskered nose pokes out, sniffing the air before plunging back in.

“Are you sure that’s a _real_ spell? It’s not very good, is it?”, she says, stepping closer to Harry.

“I only know a few simple ones myself. For example; _Oculus Reparo_!”, she points her wand at Harry’s glasses, the tape holding the lenses together disappearing, the crack mending. Harry inspects them in wonder, seemingly impressed. 

Ron frowns, seemingly _not_ impressed by the fact that he was shown up.

“Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m Hermione Granger.”, she sniffs,”And you are?”

“Ron Weasley.”

“Pleasure.”, Hermione declares, not looking very pleased at all.

“Thanks for mending my glasses. I’m Harry Potter.”, Harry offers, sensing the souring mood.

“Are you?”, she responds excitedly, her eyes lighting up, “I’ve read about you, do you know? I bought a few extra books, for some supplementary reading; You’re in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Modern Magical History and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”_

It’s at that point that Benjamin deems himself suitably ignored, apparent by the fact that she hasn’t looked his way once throughout her account. Not wanting the girl to notice him, he discreetly snatches up his book, flipping to the second chapter, where the text goes into great detail to recount sacrificial rituals. It was intriguing, the difference between the barbaric methods of times long past, and the ease in which modern magic is performed today.

_________________________________

  
“Do you know which house you’ll be in? I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it seems by far the best. Oh, but Ravenclaw wouldn’t be so bad either, I heard they’re the smart ones.”  
  
“I’ll probably be in Gryffindor.”, Ron replies, “All my brothers were sorted there. My mum and dad, too.”

“And how about you?”, Hermione asks, only just noticing Benjamin leafing through his book, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Hm? Me? Well, I don’t really mind wherever I end up. I doubt it’ll make much of a difference, really.”, he asserts, dog-earing his spot in the book, Hermione looking on in disapproval. 

“You say that now, but wait until you meet the Slytherins.” Ron states, hitting his fist into his palm. “My brothers say they’re right gits, is what they are.” 

“Are they really that bad?”, Harry interjects, looking confused.

Benjamin shakes his head,”How bad can they be, they’re just a bunch of kids. It’s not like they’re _evil_ or anything.” 

“Besides, if that’s what the rest of the school think of them, then they’re bound to be a little untrusting.”, he adds. He’s probably saying too much, but he wants to share his opinion. Benjamin doubts he’ll change anything by saying that ‘ _Slytherins aren’t all that bad_ ’.

Harry and Ron look unconvinced, coming together to discuss which house they’ll most likely end up in.   
  
“You should change into your robes, we’re about to arrive.”, Hermione voices after some time, checking the watch strapped to her wrist. She steps out of the compartment and turns to Ron, gesturing to her nose. 

“You’ve got dirt, you know. Just there.”

Ron makes a face at her back as she leaves, reaching up to wipe the dirt off his face, his ears turning a faint pink.

__________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sorting is next! Where will our character end up;)?
> 
> (Who am I kidding. Y’all read the tags.)


	7. Chapter Six

Although Benjamin knew Rubeus Hagrid would be huge, the sight of him really put things into perspective. The movies truly didn’t do justice to the half-giant, and his own imagination must not have comprehended how.. _large_ he actually was when he was reading the books. The groundskeeper could step on any one of them and he probably wouldn’t even notice.  
  
“Firs’ years, firs’ years follow me! Alright there, Harry?, Hagrid asked, the first-year students stumbling after him, trying to keep up with his long-legged pace. They were walking down a steep path, and down towards the edge of a dark lake. Benjamin heard a few ‘Ooooh’s as the entirety of the lake came into view, the black surface reflecting the castle sitting on the top of a mountain on the other side, it’s towers rising high into the night sky. 

“No more’n four a boat!”, Hagrid yelled out, ushering the students to a gaggle of boats floating at the edge of the water. Benjamin made his way into one of them, Harry and Ron following him into it, along with a boy who Benjamin had the suspicion of being Neville Longbottom.   
“ Is everyone in?”, Hagrid called, “ Alright then,— FORWARD!” 

The boats rushed across the water, leaving large ripples in their wake, the castle getting steadily closer and closer, and everyone watching on in silent wonder.

  
_____________________

  
Benjamin watched on in amusement as Draco Malfoy harassed Harry and Ron, finding the blonde’s pettiness a little funny. 

“You’ll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You can’t go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you with that.”, Draco stated smugly, offering his hand to Harry. 

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”, Harry replied coolly. 

Benjamin held back a laugh, settling for an impressed ‘Ooooh’, as Draco’s ears turned a distinct red.

“I’d be careful, Potter.”, Draco sneered, turning towards Benjamin, “Nothing good ever came from hanging around this sort of riffraff. It’ll rub off on you.”, he sniffed.

Benjamin smiled, “We definitely wouldn’t want that, now would we? After all,”, he said, his smile taking on a sharper edge, “you do seem to be _infinitely_ better than us lowly peasants.”

Harry’s shoulders shook in suppressed laughter, Ron not even bothering to hide his. The young Malfoy’s face took on a vaguely purple tint, opening his mouth to most likely throw back an insult. The stern visage of Minerva McGonagall came into view at that moment, and Draco resentfully walked away, not wanting to risk getting into trouble on the first day. 

“Follow me, first-years.”, the professor ordered, turning and guiding them through the hall.

As Professor McGonagall led them to a large room across from what Benjamin presumed to be the dining hall,—he could hear a vague drone of many voices—, he thought on all the things he needed to do. 

Changing the plot seemed to be a very tempting prospect, but the complications that could arise were less than savory. He wasn’t confident enough in his planning to save everyone from the dark times to come, not to mention all the things that could go even worse if he intervened. He might just lurk in the background and help in any way he could, jumping in when things took an ugly turn. 

And although all of that was well and good, he knew he needed something to drive him. Something to take him to new heights, and maybe possibly distract him from the overwhelming responsibility of the lives of these people who, until recently, were purely fictional. 

Benjamin listened distractingly as McGonagall listed the four houses, explaining how ‘your house will be your family throughout your stay in Hogwarts’ and all that, blah, blah, blah. He had a few choice thoughts on the house mentality everyone in Hogwarts seemed to have, how the only ‘good house’ seemed to be Gryffindor and the ‘evil house’ was Slytherin. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw always seemed to fade into the background compared to those two, not quite having the same level of importance as Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s rivalry. 

Now that he thought about it, there were many things flawed about Hogwarts. ‘ _The fact that there seems to be no privacy.’_ , Benjamin thought, surreptitiously glancing at the moving, sentient portraits lining the walls. And the _ghosts_. Why were there so _many_? And aren’t the moving staircases a bit counterproductive.? They were a wonderfully magical thing about Hogwarts, don’t get him wrong, but did they have countermeasures against the possibility of a student falling and dying. There was also the fact that there was a teacher trying to harm some of the students almost every year. Or maybe that was due to the fact that Harry is a danger magnet. Also, what do they even teach the students? There was no math, no science, or even at the least biology. They taught no economics, nothing to help prepare the students for an actual job in the real world. 

No wonder the wizarding world has grown stagnant. They depended on magic so much, to the point where they didn’t care much for anything else. The thing that made them so amazing in the first place, is now holding back.

As Benjamin mused on the shortcomings of Hogwarts and the magical world, McGonagall left the room, having finished explaining how house points correlated to winning the house cup, and how they should tidy themselves up before entering the the Great Hall to get sorted in front of the rest of the school. He watched as the rest of the students shuffled about, looking terrified. Harry was nervously patting down his hair, Ron wiping at his smudged nose.

“How exactly do they sort us into houses?”, Harry asked.

“Some sort of test maybe? Fred said it hurts, but I think he was joking.”, Ron answered, looking a little constipated.

Benjamin snorted, “Probably. Also, I doubt it’s anything complicated. They wouldn’t exactly test us on something we aren’t prepared for, you know.”. He watched as Hermione whispered to herself on all the spells she knew from a few feet away.

After a couple minutes of tense waiting, the large double doors leading to the dining hall opened. “Now, line up in an orderly fashion and follow me.”, Professor McGonagall told the first-years, beckoning them into the Great Hall.  
  
_______________________

  
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,   
But don't judge on what you see,   
I'll eat myself if you can find   
A smarter hat than me.   
You can keep your bowlers black,   
Your top hats sleek and tall,   
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat   
And I can cap them all.   
There's nothing hidden in your head   
The Sorting Hat can't see,   
So try me on and I will tell you   
Where you ought to be.   
You might belong in Gryffindor,   
Where dwell the brave at heart,   
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;   
You might belong in Hufflepuff,   
Where they are just and loyal,   
Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;   
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,   
if you've a ready mind,   
Where those of wit and learning,   
Will always find their kind;   
Or perhaps in Slytherin   
You'll make your real friends,   
Those cunning folk use any means   
To achieve their ends.   
So put me on! Don't be afraid!   
And don't get in a flap!   
You're in safe hands (though I have none)   
For I'm a Thinking Cap!" 

The sorting hat was certainly a better singer than Benjamin expected, he thought, clapping along with all the others in the Hall. The hat was old and ratty, sitting atop a stool, not looking very impressive. He felt his fellow first-years relax, relieved to know that they won’t be having a particularly difficult test, or fight a troll, as Ron had thought.

McGonagall stepped forward, unfurling a long roll of parchment. 

“When I call your name, you shall wear the hat and take a seat on the stool to be sorted.”, she said. 

“Abott, Hannah!”

This went on for some time, students walking up as their names were called, and the hat sorting them into each of the four houses, until, finally, it was Benjamin’s turn. 

“Flynn, Benjamin!”

Benjamin turned to Harry and Ron next to him,”Wish me luck.”, he said. He walked up to the stool, and took a seat as McGonagall placed the hat on his head.  


  
“Hmm...., now, what do we have here?”, Benjamin heard the small questioning voice in his ear.

“Well, this is certainly a surprise. I never would have imagined someone like you would come along. A fictional character, am I? I’ll have you know I’m as real as anyone else, no doubt about that.”

_‘I’m as surprised as you are, really. Waking up into a world I thought was only a story. Though I expect you know that too.’_ , Benjamin shot back, feeling strange. Having someone reading all your thoughts, looking into your mind, was definitely a weird sensation.

“Yes..,yes. It is my job to look into your mind to see where you will fit in the most. To figure out which house will bring about the best of your capabilities.”, the hat said. 

_‘That seems an awfully flawed system, doesn’t it?_ ’, Benjamin argued, having just come to that conclusion as he was pondering the castle and its shortcomings, _’I mean, you’re sorting children at the age of eleven into houses for traits that they’ll most likely grow out or evolve from as they mature. What if someone you place into Gryffindor turns out to be a complete coward? Or someone sorted into Ravenclaw comes to hate studying for whatever reason and fails to live up to the ‘Ravenclaws are always smart’ expectation. Why should we place them into categories in the first place?’_

“Those are certainly valid points, but you seem to be missing one important detail.”, the hat replied.

‘ _Is it that you can see the future?_ ’, Benjamin blurted out.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?”, the hat sounded amused. Benjamin wondered if this was a bad idea.

_‘I mean... it makes sense. It’s the only way to make a truly accurate judgment. How would you know if someone truly belongs in a house unless you know what kind of person they’ll become, and what kind of qualities they’ll come to value even more than they do now.’,_ Benjamin explained. This was something his past life had wondered over, making theories until he’d finally settled on this hypothesis. 

“The future I see isn’t a set outcome. I only deduce the things that could change a person into their true self, and all the ways their choices will effect what they ultimately value above all else. A person who is cowardly, but values courage, might find themselves striving to become that ideal. A person who thinks himself lazy, but hopes to become a hard-worker, should they be determined enough, can one day reach those goals. Nothing is set in stone, but by sorting students into houses, I hope to bring about their true potential.”, the hat affirmed, his voice proud and unyielding.

_‘So what you’re saying is, the house you’re placed in is more of a guide than anything else. That what you value is what your house will help you to become.’_ , Benjamin deduced, _‘That seems....fair.’_

The hat seemed a little smug,”Of course. Now, where to put you...— Gryffindor doesn’t seem a sound choice, you’re more self-preserving than particularly brave, and it seems a bit too close to the “main characters”, for your comfort. Hufflepuff values loyalty and hard work, —Oh, but you feel that is a shaky sentiment. Loyalty is something easily changed and lost. Ravenclaw seems to be the right choice, you are certainly creative, certainly intelligent enough to fit in with the house of knowledge and wisdom. But... I sense something deeper within, a longing for something, a _drive_. Something to set you apart, something to _change_ , a way to leave your mark. Yes, yes, there’s no question. It better be...”

“SLYTHERIN!”

And as Benjamin goes to join his housemate’s table, he wryly thinks that he walked himself right into that. 

He hopes he doesn’t regret it.

  
_________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always had this head canon that the sorting hat could see the future. It just makes sense really, I mean how else could it make an accurate judgment otherwise. That or it’s just... really intuitive.


	8. Chapter Seven

"Welcome," Albus Dumbledore said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

“Thank you!”

The headmaster sat back down, looking suitably satisfied as he took a sip from a goblet, the first-years talking amongst themselves. As everyone dug into the spread of food that appeared before them, Benjamin tried to ignore Draco’s scathing glare. He scooped up a hefty helping of mashed potatoes, his mouth watering. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in forever.

“What did you say your name was, anyway?”, Draco asked, his eyes narrowing. There seemed to already be some sort of hierarchy among the first-years, everyone watching on as the young Malfoy questioned Benjamin.

“I never did.”, Benjamin replied, stuffing his mouth with a spoonful of potatoes. “But, I’m Benjamin Flynn, if you must know.”

“Flynn? I’ve never heard of that name.”, Blaise Zabini spoke up from a few seats down, looking confused. 

“That’s not surprising. I’m muggleborn.”, Benjamin answered, but didn’t mention that his mother was technically a squib, as he wasn’t really sure what that made him, exactly. He braced himself for the scandalized remarks. The table burst into whispers, little pureblood children who’ve apparently never seen a muggleborn craning their necks to catch a glimpse of him. The best part was Draco’s face, which looked immensely disgusted.

“A _mudblood_?!”, he spat, “How did _you_ get into Slytherin?”

Benjamin scoffed, “Because the hat sorted me here, that’s how. Also, I don’t seem to recall “being a pureblood” as a requirement for getting sorted into Slytherin, last time I checked.”, and with that, he turned back to his food, trying to ignore the stares and whispers.

Draco picked up a plate, filling it with food as he muttered about how Hogwarts has fallen, allowing mudbloods into Slytherin, of all the things, and how his father would hear about this.

  
__________________________________

  
As the the Slytherin prefect led them down to their common room, Benjamin wondered why the predominately pureblooded house was situated in the dungeons, of all places. You’d think the snooty families of these students would complain, finding fault in their children having to stay in what basically qualified as the castle’s cellar. Not like it was any of his business.

He watched intently as the prefect stopped in front of an unassuming stretch of wall, it’s slippery stones glowing in the lantern light.

“Tradition.”

He huffed, amused. Of course that would be the password.

A passage seemed to appear in the wall, opening up into a room bathed in a vaguely emerald wash of light. The prefect ushered them in, the passage closing behind them. Benjamin observed the room, noting that the windows seemed to be underwater, the murky lake adding to the enigmatic atmosphere. Green and silver tapestries lined the walls, featuring witches and wizards who he assumed to be famous Slytherin graduates. Low-backed sofas were placed around the room, along with dark cupboards, and various other mysterious ornaments. 

All in all, it seemed cozy, if not a little pretentiously grand.

“Now, listen up!”, the prefect called, clapping her hands to catch the gawking first-years’ attention.

“My name is Gemma Farley. If you need anything, make sure to come to me or Professor Snape, our head of house. As you just saw, you need a password to enter the common room, and it will be changed every fortnight. You’ll find the new password on that board there, along with all the rules you need to follow.”, she pointed to a large blackboard placed on one of the walls not lined with an abundance of tapestries and portraits. The rules seemed to be fairly standard, but there was one that stood out to Benjamin.

  
_Your House is your family. Family stands together._

  
He smiled. That didn’t sound so bad. Quite admirable, really. Though he doubted any of his fellow first-years will think of _him_ as family. He doesn’t blame them, products of their own parents beliefs, as they were. 

Although..., perhaps he could stand to change their mindset, slowly and gradually. After all, he has no intention of blending into the background, as his past life had. Why shouldn’t he change their blood-purist mentality?

“You’ll find the girls’ dormitories on the left, boys on the right. Curfew for you first-years is 9pm, so try not to stay out too late. If you do, at least _try_ not to get caught.”, Gemma Farley said, a sly look on her face. _‘Spoken like a true Slytherin.’_ , Benjamin’s thought wryly.

“Now, off you go. You’ll find your schedules on your beds, so make sure to have a look at them to prepare for classes tomorrow. Good night.”

And as he settled into bed, Benjamin worried, feeling just a tad bit sorry. Not for his own sake, of course, but for the rest of Slytherin. He was about to upend their outdated beliefs, and he would do it gladly.

It was about time for a little harmless revolution. 

_______________________

  
Benjamin had always disliked Severus Snape with a passion, but he could certainly give the man props for his memorable entrance.

The potions professor had practically glided into the cold, dungeon-like classroom, his robes floating behind him, resembling a rolling fog. His appearance certainly matched his flair for the dramatic, his eyes dark and cold, his skin pale. 

He’d started the class by taking roll-call, but had paused at Harry’s name. “Ah, Yes.”, he said quietly, “Harry Potter. Our new...celebrity.”

Benjamin rolled his eyes as Draco Malfoy and his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, snickered amongst themselves. This was all really quite pathetic.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.", Snape continued, a tense silence pervading the air.

“Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?", Snape asked suddenly, turning on the young Gryffindor.

Benjamin watched Harry from his seat in the desk right next to him, the poor boy looking awfully confused. Hermione’s hand was raised, looking like she had something to prove. Probably that she wasn’t a dunderhead.

“I don’t know, sir.”, Harry said nervously.

Snape sneered, looking slightly triumphant. 

“Let’s try again, shall we?”, he said condescendingly, “Where would you find me a bezoar if I asked you to look for one, Potter?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Tsk—, clearly, _fame_ isn’t everything.”, Snape mocked. Draco seemed to be having the time of his life.

“And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, _Mr._ Potter?”

At this point, Benjamin had had enough, feeling completely uncomfortable over the sight of a grown man practically bully a child, and raised his hand.

“If I may, sir?”, he voiced. Snape whipped his head in his direction, annoyed. He seemed to look him over, and only when he noticed the Slytherin green coloring his tie, did he nod his head.

“Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same thing. A bezoar is a stone you can find in a goat’s stomach, and can treat the effects of most poisons. Wormwood and asphodel create a powerful sleeping potion called, The Draught of the Living Dead.”, he recited, Snape looking down his nose at him all the while.

“And, although I won’t presume to know anything about teaching a class, perhaps you should ask these questions to someone who actually knows the answers, like Ms. Granger.”, he stated flatly, gesturing to Hermione, who looked dejected for not having been picked. “Instead of someone you seem to have some sort of grudge against.”, he muttered off-handedly, watching as Snape’s goatee quivered dangerously.

“Those answers were all correct, Mr. Flynn. Ten points to Slytherin for each one.”, the professor spoke through gritted teeth. “Five points removed for your _disrespect_.”

Needless to say, the rest of the class wasn’t much fun. Snape seeming to criticize everyone but Draco, who he praised endlessly for the littlest things. He’d put them in pairs, and Benjamin had ended up with Tracy Davis, a half-blood girl who glared at him whenever he tried to talk to her. He had the suspicion she thought herself above him, a belief he couldn’t wait to collapse. 

Jokes on him. Turns out he wasn’t much good at potions, the practice of it being too similar to cooking as it was. He always was a terrible cook, something his grandmother had tried to fix, before she gave up after he had burned his fifth batch of eggs.

He added: _Learn how to cook_ , to his growing to-do list as he burned his slugs, his partner looking on with growing distaste.

  
________________________

  
His mood brightened when Harry hesitantly walked up to him after class, Ron looking disapproving behind him,

“Um, thanks—. For before.”, he spoke, rubbing his head. 

Benjamin shot him a grin, “No problem.”

And as Harry walked away to join his fellow Gryffindors, he thought:

_‘Baby steps, baby steps.’_  
  
____________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used https://archiveofourown.org/works/426484  
> for the house rule. I thought it definitely matched the mentality Slytherin has. Them vs us.
> 
> Also, I have a few ...thoughts on Snape.


	9. Chapter Eight

Even if the wizarding world liked to think itself more advanced than muggle society, Benjamin still had no intention of using _quills_ and _inkwells_ , of all things. They certainly satisfied his inner appreciation for The Aesthetic, but that was it. They were unnecessarily messy, and completely impractical. Even the required parchment rolls were outdated,—Did they really think they were still in the Middle Ages? 

Instead, Benjamin had bought a packet of quill tipped pens, and multiple notebooks for note taking. And although he had wanted to bring along a packet of lined paper, he didn’t know if the professors would only accept parchment for the essays he would have to write eventually. 

Draco seemed to see his ‘ _mudblood rubbish_ ’ as an affront, but thankfully, he ignored Benjamin for the most part, for now. Maybe it was the fact that he minded his own business, not really socializing much with his fellow Slytherins, but no one else seemed to care what he was doing. He had his hands full as it was, trying to make sense of his subjects, studying ahead as much as he could. 

His first day went like this:

After the disaster that was his first Potions lesson, he had his first Herbology lesson, which they shared with the Ravenclaw first-years. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws seemed to tolerate each other, and the lesson went off without a hitch. Then it was time for everyone to have lunch in the Great Hall, where Peeves decided to drop a bunch of Stink Pellets onto the Gryffindor table. The Bloody Baron was quickly dispatched, chasing the screeching poltergeist out of the Hall.

Charms was right after lunch, where they had the— _iconic_ , levitating lesson. 

“Altogether now,— _Wingardium Leviosa_. Very good, very good.”, Professor Flitwick praised, pointing his wand at the feathers placed in front of each of the students.

“Now—if you do the swish and flick motion I showed you earlier, you should be able to levitate your feather to eye level. Remember—swish and flick.”, he did the movements, his wand pointed at the feather. Everyone gaped as it rose into the air, flying over their heads.

As Professor Flitwick walked around the room to help any students who may be having trouble, Benjamin practiced his wand motions a couple times, making sure he’s got it perfected. He then pointed at the feather in front of him, and voiced, “ _Wingardium Leviosa._ ”

It didn’t move.

He tried again, making sure to pronounce the spell correctly, “ _Wingardium Leviosa_.”

The feather stayed firmly where it was, not budging. Time for backup.

“Professor.”, Benjamin called, his hand raised. Flitwick made his way over to his seat, a helpful smile on his face.

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Flynn?”, he asked.

“Ah—, well. I can’t seem to get it right.”, Benjamin acknowledged, “I’m doing something wrong, aren’t I?”

“Well, that depends on what you were doing, doesn’t it?”, Flitwick said in response, ”Did you visualize what you wanted the spell to do?”

“Visualize?”

Flitwick nodded, “When you visualize the spell, it’s easier to control what your magic does. The key is to know what it is you want your magic to do.”

“So,...intent?”, Benjamin wondered aloud. 

“Exactly. Now, how about you try again.”, Flitwick suggested, nodding towards the feather. Benjamin conjured up an image of a floating feather rising up in his mind, imagining it flying up to the ceiling.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_!”

The feather rose slowly, following the tip of his wand as he lifted it higher and higher. He moved his wand to the left, and watched as the feather followed.

“Well done, well done!”, Flitwick clapped, congratulating him, ”Mr. Flynn, you have successfully mastered the levitating charm! Ten points to Slytherin for picking it up so quickly!”

“That’s... _it_?”, Benjamin muttered, his eyes trailing after the feather as he moved it with his wand. Right, left. Up, down. He even had it do a loop-the-loop.

He brought the feather back down, and placed his wand on the table, furrowing his brows. That was awfully...easy. He hadn’t envisioned the action in his mind before Flitwick suggested it, but that was a mistake on his part. Perhaps he hadn’t found it necessary. 

He went over the essential steps. First, visualize. Second, pronounce the incantation, while doing the wand movements. Third—...well, that was it. 

He opened up his copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ , flipping to the second chapter, where the wand-lighting charm, _Lumos_ , was located. He read over the spell’s details, practicing the wand motion, a counter-clockwise loop, before visualizing the tip of his wand lighting up, as it had in Ollivander’s shop.

“ _Lumos_.”

The wand glowed, illuminating the pages of his spell-book even more, casting shadows on his face. 

“Mr. Flynn! You know the wand-lighting charm?,”, Professor Flitwick asked excitedly, making his way back to Benjamin from where he’d been trying to assist Goyle in his pronunciation.  
  
“I guess—, well, that’s what it looks like.”, he answered, “I was only just practicing. It didn’t seem very complicated, so I decided to give it a go.”

Flitwick surveyed the light, his eyes glowing.

“Do you know how to extinguish the light?.”

“I can try.”. Benjamin pictured the light turning off, his magic snuffing it out.

“ _Nox_.”

The light went out, and Benjamin felt his magic retract from the wand, taking the light with it.

“Very well done, Mr.Flynn! Very well done, indeed!”, Flitwick beamed, “Twenty points to Slytherin!”. 

His classmates muttered amongst themselves, pleased with the points, and curious over his demonstration of a spell they haven’t went over yet. Benjamin frowned, confused. Was it really that easy? He felt as if he was cheating, even though he really wasn’t. He made up his mind to practice and experiment at a later time, and try not to attract too much attention, for now. 

He didn’t really know anything about magic, anyway. It was probably just beginner’s luck. He just needed time to find out what the hell he was even doing.

_________________________________

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... writers block is a thing. That exists. That is ruining my life. UUUUUUUGH


	10. Chapter Nine

Benjamin doesn’t understand broom-flying. Flying was always something he’d wanted to do, and he’d dreamed of soaring through the skies more times than he could count. When he thought of flying, he thought of freedom. He thought of his past-life, and how when he was younger he’d jumped out of a tree to see if he could somehow float. He’d ended up breaking his arm, and never did it again.

But,... _brooms_? How do you even sit on one? How do you even sit on one _comfortably_? And then you have to fly in the air, with gravity weighing down on you, the broom handle gradually going up the crack of your ass. 

It sounded horrible.

But, alas, he had broom-flying lessons later that day, and maybe then he’ll find out if it was actually as uncomfortable as it sounded.  
  
__________________________________

  
When Draco took Neville’s Remembrall from where it had landed in the grass, and Harry threatened him to give it back, Benjamin had the sudden urge to laugh. Although he was his own person and he was (sort of) different from his past-life, he still “remembered” those memories, and the childish ways in which they provoked each other was, frankly, hilarious. 

The Slytherin first-years had left for the grounds to have the highly anticipated flying lesson, the Gryffindors arriving not long after. The tension was palpable as the two houses glared at each other, and it only increased when Neville injured himself by launching himself into the sky. The Slytherins found it funny, mocking him, while the Gryffindors threatened them.

Benjamin watched as Draco mounted his broom, the Remembrall still in his hand, and flew above their heads, goading Harry, who mounted his own broom and took off after him. The Gryffindors cheered him on, only Hermione seeming to be irritated . Benjamin smiled, walking up to stand beside her.

“Well, you look annoyed.”, he said.

Hermione turned her head towards him, a scowl on her face. “Of course I am! He’s going to lose us all our points! He going to get expelled!”.

Benjamin’s grin widened, “Nah, they wouldn’t expel a student for flying their broom. He’ll be fine, —besides, he’s Harry Potter. They’re not gonna expel _him_.”, he stated. Harry had crashed a whole-ass flying car onto the school grounds, once, and they still hadn’t expelled him. Not to mention all the rule-breaking. Dumbledore couldn’t have made it more obvious that he had a favorite.

Hermione sniffed, obviously not buying it. “What do you want, anyway? Trying to pick a fight?”, she asked warily, her gaze alternating between watching Harry up in the air and keeping an eye on Benjamin.

“Wow, your words hurt me.” , he jokingly put a hand to his chest, “You have such little faith in me, Ms.Granger.”

She narrowed her eyes, “What are you getting at?”

“I’m saying, I’d rather do something better with my time than pick a fight with you. Besides, that sounds boring.” ,he said, wrinkling his nose. 

Someone screamed from the Gryffindors, pointing at Harry, who was diving down towards the ground with an outstretched hand, reaching for the falling Remembrall. Hermione gasped, covering her mouth. It all seemed to go by in slow motion, Harry catching the Remembrall, coming at the ground fast before he, somehow, managed to land on his feet, stumbling forward.

“HARRY POTTER!”

Professor McGonagall was stalking across the grounds towards them, looking appalled. They parted as she walked through them to Harry, who looked worried, clutching the handle of his broom.

Benjamin stifled a chuckle as everyone tried to explain what happened, McGonagall giving them pointed looks to shut them up. She then proceeded to drag Harry along with her to the castle, ordering the rest of the students to wait until Madame Hooch returned from the infirmary. 

Yeah, he wasn’t gonna do that.

“Well, that was fun. But I’m not sticking around, so...bye.”, he spoke, brushing off a leaf that had flown into his hair. He didn’t wait for anyone to stop him, making his way back to the castle.

  
He _had_ managed to catch sight of Hermione’s scandalized face, though, but that hardly mattered when he had a certain Room of Requirement to look for.

  
__________________________

  
The only thing Benjamin knew about where the Room of Requirement was located, was that it was on the 7th floor, and something about trolls in tutus. So, whenever he had time, he would roam the 7th floor, looking for any sign of ballerina trolls. Problem was, the castle was huge, and he got lost more times than he could count. Him having a bad sense of direction definitely didn’t help.

He’d read enough fan fiction to know that finding the Room was a surefire way to improve his skills. He was almost tempted _not_ to look for it, as he wasn’t a particularly diligent person; no, he was too much of procrastinator for that, but he could at least make an effort. He definitely didn’t want to die by the hands of some delusional Deatheater, so he decided it was better to make sure he was prepared. 

Besides, he had... _things_ to research. The amount of stuff that wizards excepted as “just being magic” was ridiculous. There had to be some sort of explanation, scientific or otherwise for the things that they could do. Not that he was an overly scientific person, but he believed that maybe science and magic were two sides of the same coin.

Honestly, he just needed some way to spend his time. He felt like he had a lot of it, considering the fact that he was eleven (again).

And as he explored the 7th floor, with no sign of tutus or trolls anywhere he could see, Benjamin decided he should have fun while he was at it. He wasn’t about to waste a whole second chance at life, not if he could help it.

  
__________________________

  
Apparently, Benjamin’s idea of “having fun” was driving his teachers up the wall. Whenever Professor McGonagall disregarded the laws of nature by transfiguring a bird into a goblet, or a desk into a pig, Benjamin would be there, asking her “how the _fuck_ was that even possible”. (In politer terms, of course. He wasn’t about to go have detention in the dangerous, child- _un_ friendly forest. Not yet, at least, as he wasn’t quite ready yet.)

Flitwick seemed to have taken a liking to him, asking him to cast spells whenever the class needed a demonstration. The attention grated after awhile, as the Slytherins weren’t particularly thrilled over the fact that he was so far ahead them in Charms, but he appreciated the Professor’s willingness to help him nonetheless. He dealt with Flitwick’s recognition of his talent by grilling the Professor on Charms theory, with questions that, more often than not, he couldn’t give definitive answers to. It would appear that wizards have never asked why and how they could do these things, and were content enough not to ask questions. Obviously, they had better things to with their time, unlike...him.  
  
Herbology was therapeutic, the plants and general calm atmosphere helping Benjamin to unwind, especially since they didn’t share the class with the Gryffindors. The Ravenclaws and Slytherins weren’t friendly with each other, per se, but they both definitely tolerated the other house, which was far more than Benjamin expected, honestly.

Potions, on the other hand, was a nightmare. Snape was an ass, Benjamin was practically failing, and the Gryffindor students were miserable. It was a horrible experience for everyone involved, and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why Snape was allowed to teach children. The man was a horrible teacher, rarely encouraging anyone to even _want_ to be moderately competent, and belittling the Gryffindors for the smallest mistakes. Neville had it the worst, the poor guy being way too nervous to brew a presentable potion, what with Snape practically breathing down his neck. 

It was on a Friday that Benjamin decided to help Neville out, sitting next to the Gryffindor when he came into the classroom. Neville’s mouth had hung open in shock, his eyes darting around. 

“You don’t mind if I sit here, right?”, Benjamin asked, unpacking his cauldron onto the desk. Neville shook his head rapidly, looking like he would rather be anywhere else. Class began as usual, Snape sneering in their direction when he caught sight of the two worst students in the class sitting together. He wrote the recipe and instructions for the Herbicide Potion onto the blackboard, and everyone began with their preparations. 

Potions wasn’t difficult, but it was unenjoyable, as Benjamin has never really liked to cook. The two were very much alike, except with Potions, if you did something wrong, you had a higher chance of possibly risking your life. Add in the unnecessary jibes from Snape, and it all mixed together into a very unpleasant experience.

Neville crushed the lionfish spines, looking at the pestle and mortar as if they were about to explode. Benjamin wouldn’t be surprised if they did, considering Neville’s luck. When he’d finished with turning the fins into a fine powder, he then added it to the cauldron, turning up the flames under it. He seemed a little less nervous, since Snape was miraculously leaving them alone. Probably out of self-preservation, not wanting to get caught up in whichever way they manage to ruin their potions.

“It says you have to let it brew for fifteen minutes.”, Benjamin said, pointing to the blackboard. Neville nodded, turning back to his Potions book, holding it up to try and hide his face. 

“You’re good at Herbology, right?”, Benjamin asked, trying to steer the conversation into familiar ground. 

Neville reluctantly looked up from the book he obviously wasn’t reading, looking a tad bit surprised. “Um, yeah. A little.”, he answered shyly, “How did you know?”

Benjamin shrugged, “I saw you in the library before, reading a book on it and looking like you were having the time of your life.”. He had been trying to figure out how to sneak into the restricted section, just to see if he could, when he’d noticed Neville hunched over a book on plants with fire properties, looking far more confident than he’d ever seen him before. It was touching, if a bit sad, to see him looking so comfortable, compared to his usual state of insecurity. 

“I like Herbology too, but it’s kind of annoying that I’m complete rubbish at Potions.”, he added, “The two subjects go a bit hand-in-hand.”

“Really?”, Neville asked, “Herbology is the only subject I’m kind of good at. Everything else I’m always messing up.”  
He scratched the back of his head, a forlorn look on his face.

Benjamin smiled, giving him an encouraging look, “You’ll get better. Not everyone is perfect at everything, but that’s why we go to school in the first place. So that we can learn how to improve ourselves.”, he asserted.

“Just give it some time.”  
  
It was then that the brewing lionfish fins decided to explode, effectively giving Snape a reason to give both Benjamin and Neville two days of detention for being so utterly incompetent.

They _really_ should’ve been watching those fins.  
  
________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone on the internet: Dont use italics, it makes you work look bad. 
> 
> Me: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑠 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑜𝑛. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑙.


	11. Chapter Ten

Benjamin...loves cats. They were easy to take care of, cute and cuddly (when they wanted to be), and most importantly, they minded their own business.

Except, apparently, Mrs.Norris, who was the exception. The cat was a _menace_ , the bane of any prankster’s existence. She’d snoop around the school, looking for rule breakers and aspiring tricksters alike, and then run back to her unsavory partner, Hogwarts’ caretaker, Argus Filch, to lead him to the unlucky students, who would most likely spend the rest of their week in detention.

Benjamin was devastated when he’d met her, as he was under the impression she was a random student’s cat at first. He’d tried to pet her, and she’d swatted his hand away, hissing. Which, um— _rude_.

And, he soon realized, she would be a problem. He wasn’t about to follow a curfew, of all things, and he wanted to be able to roam the castle as he liked. He was confident in his sneaking abilities, but he wanted to be sure Mrs.Norris wouldn’t be something he had to worry about.

And so starts his mission of getting Mrs.Norris to either ignore him, or maybe, like him enough to let his violation of the curfew go.

___________________________

  
Benjamin narrowed his eyes at the couple of very obviously spying siblings. Fred and George Weasley were undoubtedly eye-catching, with their red hair and identical faces. The fact that their notoriety was due to their pranks, definitely gave everyone a sense of caution when they were around. Nobody was safe from their wild tricks, least of all the “unlikable, evil” Slytherins. 

And _he_ was a Slytherin. A Slytherin who happened to be very vulnerable, squatting behind a corner on the second floor. A Slytherin who really didn’t want to deal with this right now, as he was trying to bribe an incredibly stubborn Mrs.Norris to like him by dangling the sausage slices he’d stolen from breakfast in front of her face.

“Oiiii.”, Benjamin drawled, “What are you blokes even doing?”

Fred and George halted their snickering, then sauntered out from behind one of the many suits of armors that lined the castle halls, their mouths morphing into wicked smiles. 

“Aww, look George, the ickle Slytherin firstie’s trying to make friends with the devil’s spawn.”, Fred(?) commented, “We just happened to be walking up the hidden staircase—“

“—that you’ll never find, ickle firstie that you are—“

“—when we noticed you snooping around, looking highly suspicious.”

They both beamed smugly down at him, their identical grins looking a little disconcerting. Mrs.Norris had since escaped, evidently uninterested in the sausage he was waving at her. 

Ungrateful cat. 

Benjamin straightened from his crouch, dusting off his pants. He needed a way out of this.

“I was only trying to feed the cat.”, he tried to say nonchalantly, except the twins’ grins only widened. He had no doubt they didn’t believe him for a second, their observation probably owing to the experience they had with lying their way out of getting into trouble. He was an amateur compared to them, and he knew it.

“And why would you want to do that?,” George(?) asked, circling Benjamin as Fred(?) leaned against the stone wall. A portrait of an old wizard winked down at Benjamin from above Fred’s head. Well.

“Okay, okay. I was trying to get Mrs.Norris on my side.”, he admitted, crossing his arms, “I don’t really care for this curfew thing, so I needed to do something about that cat.”

“Get it on your side? Ha! That cat is evil—“

“—she’s the _worst_. All those wasted opportunities, all because she couldn’t mind her own business.”

The twins had a moment of silence, no doubt mourning all their hindered plans. Benjamin raised a brow, thinking of something.

“How about... I do something about that cat, to help you two out,”, he started conspiratorially, lowering his voice, “and you help me with something.”

They leaned forward, their eyes flashing.

“Oh ho, the little Slytherin is trying to bargain. What do you think, George?”

“I reckon he’s getting a little ahead of himself, Fred. After all, what could he possibly want from us?”

Benjamin can feel the hole he’s digging himself into getting deeper. Here he was, a Slytherin trying to negotiate with two Slytherin hating Gryffindors. This was a horrible idea.

“Listen, I’m planning to have that cat not run back to her shifty owner every time she sees me out of bed—which is gonna happen a lot, mind you—, whether that means I get her to like me, or somehow make sure she never even notices me in the first pla—“, he stopped, eying the twins’ growing smug smiles. 

Hold on. 

They didn’t need his help. They had the _map_. _The_ map. The map that showed the location of everyone in the castle. Even Mrs.Norris.

How much more stupid could he get. 

“You guys already know a way to deal with her, don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We might, we might not. We’re more interested in how _you_ decide to deal with her.”, Fred disclosed, putting an arm around Benjamin’s shoulders.

“Besides, we’re not ones to impede a hopeful rule-breaker in the making, or their creative thinking.”, added George, wrapping his own arm around his brother’s shoulders, making a strange sort of chain with Benjamin in the lead.

Benjamin tsk-ed, irritated. He _had_ to get himself into this mess, didn’t he?

‘ _Maybe, when I find the Room of Requirement, I can show it to the twins in exchange for borrowing the Marauders’ Map. Except, that seems like a bad idea, considering the fact that they didn’t know about it until Harry’s sixth year or so. Who knows how much havoc they could wreak if I they knew about it six years early._ ’, he thought, frowning as the twins looked at him in amusement.

“Look, I just need to figure something out.”, he finally said, shrugging off Fred’s arm. He turned to walk away, but stopped, stretching out his hand.

“Also, my offer still stands. I think I do have something you guys might want, and I want something you guys have. I’ll contact you if I ever decide I want to use it, and we’ll trade, if you’d like. So..deal?”

Fred and George thought for a bit, conversing silently with their eyes. They turned back to him and gripped his hand with both of theirs, shaking it firmly. 

“Oh, we’ll hold you up on that offer, you can be sure of that.”

“Especially since we’re curious about whatever it is you have that we want.”

“Let’s hope you don’t disappoint us, yeah?”

__________________________

Benjamin’s mind was still reeling as he made his way back down to the Slytherin dorms. His happening across the Weasley twins seemed to have gone by in a blur, the two of them leading him by the nose the whole time. They were exhausting. No wonder they seemed to rarely get caught whenever there was a prank, though everyone already knows it’s most likely them.

“Tradition.”

The passage embedded into the wall slid open, and Benjamin stepped into the common room, letting the soothing sound of the lake wash over him. He held back a groan when he spotted Draco and his little gang of friends, sitting around the fire and whispering amongst themselves. Draco in particular looked livid, his frustration making itself known through his pointed expression.

‘ _They must of found out about Harry becoming Seeker for the Gryffindor team._ ’, Benjamin mused, trying to sneak his way to the dorms.

“Hey!”

He turned to face Draco, who was suddenly right in his face.   
The young Malfoy sneered, trying to look down at him, but he was slightly shorter than Benjamin, so it didn’t work.

“You’re.. _friends_ with Potter, aren’t you?”, he asked, curling his lips.

Benjamin tried not to roll his eyes.

He heaved a sigh, peering past Draco. Blaise was trying to appear uninterested, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. Pansy and Theo were darting looks at him between hushed whispers, while Crabbe and Goyle...—well, they were Crabbe and Goyle. Not much going on there.

He faced Draco again, “I’m not. We haven’t talked since the train.”, he shrugged, ”Not many chances.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking unconvinced.

“I only presumed you’d hang out with the blood-traitors, mud-blood that you are.”, he said after a moment, walking back to his posse, taking a seat. Crabbe and Goyle snickered, and Pansy let out an unflattering laugh.

“Mark my words, my father will hear about this. A first-year allowed on the Quidditch team? This school is a disgrace.”, Draco scoffed, “The only reason he’s on the team is because he’s the boy-who-lived. What a bunch of rubbish.”

Benjamin huffed, not really impressed by Draco’s whining. He looked out the window into the lake, the greenish water glowing mystically. He hadn’t caught sight of the giant squid quite yet, but he was counting on it. He let himself get lost in the deep water, staring into it as his mind wandered, while Draco complained to his friends in the background.

_‘I wonder if Mrs.Norris would like chicken more?’_

_________________________

  
The whole incident with the Weasley twins and Mrs.Norris must have occupied most of his thoughts as he went to bed, because something important had slipped his mind that he only realized when he woke up the next morning.

It was Halloween. 

Which means a troll was about to ruin his dinner.

Damn.

_________________________


	12. Chapter Eleven

When Professor Quirrell ran into the hall as everyone was enjoying their Halloween feast, Benjamin sneaked a couple chocolate scones into his robes, knowing what comes next. He didn’t want to miss dessert, even if there was a troll rampaging in the castle.

“Troll in the dungeon! Troll in the dungeon!”, Quirrell shouted, coming to a stop in front of the Professor’s table, quivering (Ha!).

“Thought you ought to know.”, and with that, he fell to the ground in a dead faint, his turban wrapped around his head crookedly. Benjamin wondered what Voldemort felt about all this. It must be quite humiliating, being attached to someone who acts like such a fool.

The students in the hall quickly panicked, everyone scrambling up from their seats, screaming loudly. It took an impressive show of fire-crackers from Dumbledore’s wand to calm them down, after which he instructed the prefects to lead the students to their common rooms. 

Funny how the Slytherin common room was in the dungeon, where the troll happened to be strolling around. Benjamin wondered if anyone even cared.

As everyone streamed out of the hall, Benjamin detached himself from the crowd, silently making his way to a separate corridor. He strolled through the halls, looking for a particular room, stopping to listen for footsteps every few minutes. The girls’ bathroom was easy to find, and Benjamin stood in front of it, catching the tell-tale sound of crying. He didn’t really want to enter yet. He gave the door a couple knocks, waiting for an answer.

Nothing.

He knocked again.

“WHAT?”, Hermione shouted, her voice hitching at the end. 

Benjamin opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a foul stench wafted up into his nose. He hurriedly covered his face, gagging. Old socks and uncleaned public restrooms were horrible scents on their own, but they definitely packed a different punch mixed together. He heard the footfalls, felt the floor shake with every step, and he opened the bathroom door quickly, stepping in and shutting it behind him.

“Wha—?”, Benjamin placed a hand over Hermione’s mouth as she shook her head indignantly, the tap running into the sink she’d been hunched over. He brought a finger to his lips, shushing her. 

The loud shuffling footsteps neared, and he held his breath as they seemed to stop behind the door. Hermione removed his hand, tossing it to his side, “What are you doing?”

Benjamin’s explanation faded in his throat as the door opened slowly, the troll’s slimy, grey body pushing it ajar as it stomped in. It’s ears flopped lazily when it saw them, and it let out a deep bellow, lifting up its club.

Benjamin whipped out his wand as Hermione screamed, a loud, shrill sound that only seemed to excite the troll. It brought its club down fast, smashing it against the sink next to them. Shards of glass and porcelain hit them, their robes sparing them of any major scratches. Hermione let out another scream, gripping his robes as he grabbed her arm and pulled them across to the end of the room, away from the troll.

“Calm down!”, Benjamin yelled, “Bring out your wand and _calm down_!”

Hermione whimpered, reaching into her robes as the troll slowly made its way towards them, smashing the sinks with its club as it walked.

“OI, PEA-BRAIN!”

Something hit the troll in the head, and it turned around, a small metal pipe clanging to the floor.

Ron and Harry were standing in the doorway, brandishing their wands, looking rightfully scared.

“C’mon! Run, run!”, Harry cried out, trying to edge around the troll as Ron distracted it by launching junk at its head. Benjamin kept a firm grip around Hermione’s arm, his wand pointed at the troll as he made his way towards Harry. 

That was a bad idea.

The troll raged, angered by the rubble that kept flying at it, and lifted up its club once again to smash it against one of them. Harry decided to do something stupid, and he ran at the troll and jumped, landing on its back with his arms wrapped around its neck, his wand sticking up its nostril. 

“Do something!”, he called, swinging around as the troll shook itself, trying to be rid of him. Its face was contorted, pained by Harry’s wand up its nose.

Two things happened at once. Ron and Benjamin pointed their wands at the troll, yelling out the same spell in unison. 

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_!”

Except, while Ron’s spell hit the troll’s club, Benjamin’s spell hit the troll itself, and they both rose into the air, the club flying out of the troll’s hands. 

“Jump off!”, Benjamin called out to Harry, and the boy landed on the floor, rolling out from below the troll as it struggled in the air, its feet a few inches from the ground. Ron and Benjamin ceased their spells, and the troll fell, hitting the ground hard, the club smashing it in the head, knocking it out completely.

A tense silence.

“Is it—dead?”, Hermione asked after a moment, still gripping onto his sleeve. Benjamin shook his head, peering at its back, watching as it rose and fell with each breath.

“I think it just passed out.”, he answered. Ron grimaced from where he was by the doorway, patting down his robes.

Harry hesitantly neared the troll, pulling out his wand from its nose, a string of snot stretching from it. He wiped it on his robes, his lips twisting in distaste.

They all looked to the door as it suddenly banged open, Professor McGonagall rushing in, followed closely by Snape and Quirrell. McGonagall glared at Harry and Ron as Snape went to inspect the unmoving troll.

“What were you _thinking_?”, she fumed, her eyes blazing, and made her way to Harry and Ron, “You’re could’ve been _killed_!”. 

Harry and Ron cast their eyes downward, suitably chastised. An angry McGonagall was scarier than the troll, and Benjamin was thankful she hadn’t noticed him yet.

“It—it was _my_ fault, Professor McGonagall. They came to look for me.”, Hermione spoke up in a soft voice, rising from her half crouch. Benjamin steadied her, his hand still gripping her arm.

“Whatever do you mean Ms.Granger? And Mr. Flynn, too! I expected more from you at least.”, McGonagall scolded, having finally laid eyes on him. What’s with that anyway? Was he really that unnoticeable?

“I thought I could take on the troll, because I’ve read about them. But the three of them came, and Harry jumped onto it to stop it from smashing me, and Ron and—him—levitated the club, and then they knocked it out. They came to stop me, and it’s really all my fault, Professor, so don’t blame them!”, Hermione pleaded, regaining her strength. Ron looked astonished, never having seen Hermione lie to a teacher. Benjamin was offended. She even forgot his name.

McGonagall pursed her lips, her forehead creasing. Snape flashed them a pointed glare, unimpressed, while Quirrell tried not to faint again at the troll’s stench. 

“Well—in that case..”, McGonagall said, staring them down, “Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your lack of sense. How could you think it was a good idea to go after a troll on your own? You’re lucky your friends came for you.”

Hermione lowered her head, and Benjamin patted her shoulder consolingly. 

“And you three—not many first-years can take on a fully grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale.”, said McGonagall, shaking her head, ”Five points will be awarded to each of you—for sheer dumb luck. Now—off you go to your dormitories, and I don’t want you taking any detours.”

She shooed them out of the bathroom, and the four of them scrambled out. They walked till they were a suitable distance from the professors, then collectively stopped, eyeing each other warily.

”Well— _that_ was exciting.”, Benjamin drawled. Harry snorted.

“Um—thanks.”, Hermione mumbled at last, rubbing her arm. 

Ron scratched his head, shuffling his feet shyly, “What are friends for?” 

Hermione laughed weakly, and Harry smiled. How sweet. Benjamin suddenly felt like an outsider, watching the golden trio’s legendary friendship beginning. He patted off the dust that had collected onto his robes absentmindedly, and the Gryffindors’ attention landed on him.

“What were you doing there,anyway?”, Harry asked, eyeing him suspiciously. 

Benjamin pondered the question. Why was he there? He knew what would happen, and the three of them never got hurt. In fact, taking down the troll brought them closer together. Him being there was unnecessary, and he’s honestly surprised nothing changed from what had happened originally.

He replied as truthfully as he could, realizing the answer.

“I thought there would be an adventure. And there was.”, he grinned as their faces all morphed into confusion, Ron looking especially indignant, “Plus—I saw Hermione crying before, and she wasn’t at dinner. I assumed she would probably be in the bathroom, so I just... made my way here.”

Ron’s nostrils flared, “And what did you think you would get out of saving her? Thought you would make yourself out to be a hero, did you? Well—“

“Ron! Stop being rude!”, Hermione interrupted, “You really should stop questioning his intentions! How would you feel if people kept interrogating you over every little thing?”

She huffed, crossing her arms, “Not everything has to be about being a Slytherin. You were talking to him just fine on the train, anyway.”

Harry had been silent throughout all this, but he nodded along to Hermione’s words, “She’s right, Ron. Besides, he helped me before, too. And he’s friends with Neville, so he can’t be all bad.”

“I guess you’re right.”, Ron mumbled, giving Benjamin a reluctant nod, “Thanks—for before.”

“Don’t mention it. I don’t really think I did much, though. You’d have been fine without me.”, Benjamin said, shrugging. He wondered what time it was. Fatigue was starting to creep into his muscles, the events catching up to him. He put his hands in his pockets, trying to warm his cold hands—that happened when he was tired—and detected a wrapped bundle. Ah. He’d almost forgotten about that.

“Hermione. Here.”, he offered it to her, “You didn’t have any dinner, right?”

Hermione took hold of the bundle, and started unwrapping the napkins away, “What is it?”

Benjamin hummed, waving his hand, “Just some scones—I sneaked them from the table while everyone was going crazy over the troll. Anyway, Professor McGonagall’s gonna be pretty angry if she found out we dawdled, and my housemates will wonder where I’ve been, so I’d better get down there.”

“Ah,well—see you tomorrow, I guess.”, Harry said. Ron nodded, “See you tomorrow.”

Hermione’s mouth curved into a smile, holding the scones in one hand while she waved shyly with the other.

“Thanks for dessert.”

_____________________

Benjamin smiled as he made his way down to his dormitory, maybe just a little annoyed over the fact that he didn’t keep one of the scones for himself.   


_____________________


	13. Chapter Twelve

Professor Flitwick was undeniably Benjamin’s favorite. Seeing that he taught the subject that Benjamin most excelled at, it was no surprise—he admired Flitwick’s limitless knowledge on charms, and the fact that he always answered his questions whenever he was particularly confused about a certain spell. He was a good teacher too, and Benjamin never left a class feeling as if he hadn’t learnt anything. 

But, now—as his classmates filed out of the charms classroom, Benjamin stayed behind. Professor Flitwick was organizing a pile of essays that they’ve just turned in, his small hands working deftly through the parchment. He looked up, catching sight of Benjamin standing by the door.

“Ah, Mr. Flynn! How may I help you?”, he asked, motioning for him to come closer. Benjamin sat on the small armchair positioned in front of the professor’s desk, tapping his fingers on his knee. He leaned forward.

“I only had a question, Professor.”, he said, “It’s about the levitating spell.”

Professor Flitwick looked up from his work, a curious look in his eyes.

“Yes, yes—you’re first spell. You did perfectly; on your second try, no less.”, he remarked, “What kind of question?”

Benjamin leaned back, resuming his knee-tapping. 

The encounter with the troll had only been a few weeks ago, and he’d walked away from the experience without any problems. Except—he’d overlooked something. Something important that he only realized after he’d went over everything in detail. 

“Can you use the levitating charm on a living being?”

Flitwick tilted his head, stroking his mustache. “Although the levitating charm can’t be used on humans, it can be applied to small animals, and, in some cases, if a wizard has exceptional magical power, to larger creatures. But of course, that is quite rare, as the spell isn’t fundamentally suited to that.”

“So...hypothetically speaking—is it possible to be able to levitate—say.. a troll?”, Benjamin asked, growing hesitant. This was going a direction he didn’t like.

“Well, although I have faith in you, as you are now, I highly doubt you could pull it off. But if we were talking about a powerful wizard like Headmaster Dumbledore, for example, it is possible. You’d need an incredible amount of magical power, and an incredible amount of control, to levitate something as big and heavy as a troll.”, Fliwick said, and, taking out his wand, he waved it at the armchair Benjamin was sitting in. The chair floated a couple feet into the air, and Benjamin gripped the arms tightly, swinging his legs. Flitwick waved his wand again, and the chair floated down gently, settling against the carpeted floor once again.

“Pushing your intentions onto an inanimate object is much easier than pushing them onto a living being. There’s nothing to battle when you levitate an object, which unlike a living being, has no will or magic of its own. Of course, you can charm an object so that it cannot be levitated, but that subject is for another day.”, Professor Flitwick explained, putting away his wand, “So, yes— it is possible to levitate a troll, but it requires a great amount of magical power, along with a great amount of control.”

Benjamin nodded slowly, still tapping his knee, “Everything boils down to intent—doesn’t it?”

Flitwick smiled, “That is correct. After all—magic is magic, and magic is whatever you want it to do. That is why it is possible to perform spells silently, though it takes a great deal of practice. The basics of magic has always been intent.”, he patted the papers in front of him, “I hope I’ve answered your questions adequately, and now—if you don’t mind—I have some essays to grade.”

Benjamin rose from his seat, “Yes—thank you, Professor. That was helpful.” Flitwick gave him another smile before turning back to his work, and Benjamin walked out into the corridor with more questions than before.

________________________

  
Finding the Room of Requirement had risen to the top of Benjamin’s list, and it showed. He roamed the seventh floor everyday looking for any sign of the ballerina troll tapestry, trying not to get lost, and marking landmarks with a red pen he’d found amidst the rest of his stationary. He was sure he was getting closer to finding it; he could feel it.

Mrs. Norris seemed to have gotten used to him, as he was always strolling through the corridors, and she didn’t seem to detest him as much as the other students. She’d still follow him around, but she wouldn’t call for Filch, and Benjamin thanked her by leaving treats for her whenever he passed by. Apparently, she liked chicken the most.

His classmates continued to ignore him, for the most part. Draco still threw (harmless) barbs at him if he had the time, but the young Malfoy was mostly preoccupied with insulting Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors. Harry, Ron and Hermione were busier than usual whenever he saw them in the library, probably beginning their research on Nicolas Flamel. Benjamin had always wondered why they were so invested in something that was really none of their business, but he supposed nothing would get done if they just kept to themselves. Couldn’t be him—he liked minding his own business.

Surprisingly, he’d made a friend. Neville Longbottom was insecure and not very competent when it came to magic, but he was pleasant company. Benjamin spent most of his time with the Gryffindor in the library, and they read silently, enjoying the peace. Benjamin would help Neville with his homework, and they would both try to improve their understanding of potions, with, regrettably, little success.

“The thing is—potions would be so much easier if Snape wasn’t teaching it. He hates Gryffindor. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to sabotage us.”, Neville complained, resting his head on the open potions book in front of him. Benjamin looked up from his transfiguration homework, tapping his pen to his chin. Today was a Saturday, so—no classes. Him and Neville had settled themselves into the library instead, working on their homework.

“I don’t doubt that. Sometimes I wonder what Dumbledore is thinking—Snape isn’t really fit to teach.” He reached out and took Neville’s book, flipping through the pages. His motivation for the subject was practically nonexistent—Snape’s attitude having killed any enjoyment Benjamin might have found in potions.

“What’s the-boy-who-lived been up to these days?”, he casually asked, handing the book back to Neville.

“Him and Ron and Hermione have been in the library a lot. I think they’re looking for something, but they never tell me what it is when I ask.” Neville wrinkled his nose. ”I have a feeling they’re going to get into trouble.”

Benjamin huffed out a laugh. That was a bit of an understatement.

“And how about that quidditch match? I wasn’t really interested, so I didn’t watch—but I heard it was exciting.”

The match between Gryffindor and Slytherin had been highly anticipated, everyone looking forward to seeing the famous Harry Potter, who also happened to be the youngest seeker in a century, show his talents on the field. Benjamin had taken advantage of everyone heading out to watch the game, searching for the Room of Requirement with no one around to interrupt him. He’d gotten lost twice—which was an improvement from his usual four to five. 

Neville explained the match in great detail, even going into the fight him and Ron had with Malfoy and his goons, Crabbe and Goyle.

“They beat me up, of course, but it felt good to throw a punch at them.”, Neville mimicked a punching motion, looking proud. Benjamin was glad he seemed to be more confident. 

They spent the rest of their time mocking Draco and his friends, sharing creative insults they had come up with for whenever Draco decided to torment them again.  
  
Having made plans to meet up later, they parted ways. Benjamin heading straight to the seventh floor, searching the corridors for the rest of the day.

______________________________

  
It was on the day before Christmas that Benjamin found the Room of Requirement—a fitting time for discovering a room that could do almost anything you want.

He’d been on the seventh floor, as usual, the icy coldness of the castle walls seeping into his skin, leaving him freezing and miserable, grumbling out incoherent curses. He had a few thoughts on Hogwarts’ nonexistent heating system, all of which ended with him judging the wizarding world and their apparent idiocy. 

The tapestry of dancing trolls was smack dab in the middle of the corridor wall to his left, and he’d almost walked right past it. He stopped instead, inhaling sharply. 

There it was. Trolls. In tutus. Dancing horribly—because, honestly, who ever thought _that_ was a good idea.

A strange, high-pitched squealing sound left his mouth, and he jumped in place. It took him almost three months, but now he’d finally found it. And now he was going to completely abuse his newfound hiding place and experimentation center.

He couldn’t wait.

_________________________

And he didn’t.

Except—okay, he did wait a little. Christmas was the next day, so maybe he should enjoy his time in the Room with some holiday flair. Grandmother had sent him some peppermints and a book of many musical sheets via Ibis, with a card where she reminded him that he better be practicing. Benjamin hadn’t so much as touched his violin yet, too distracted by the literal magic all around him, but he made a mental note to at least try.

Neville’s gift was The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Benjamin had almost dropped the book in surprise, completely unprepared. He hadn’t expected to get that, of all things. He turned the book in his hand, finding that Neville had written a note on the front:

_  
This is a sort of fairytale book every magical born child knows about. Thought it’d be nice to give you a copy._

_From, Neville Longbottom._

  
He placed the book on his bed, intending to read it before he turned in, if he had the time. He unwrapped the rest of the presents; Flitwick had gifted him a magical chess set, inviting him to game should he ever be interested. Surprisingly, Harry and Hermione had sent him gifts; chocolate frogs and Fizzing Whizzbees, respectively. He felt a little guilty, as he hadn’t thought they were close enough to warrant presents. Perhaps it was obligatory candy, and they were only thanking him for his help with the troll, which, if that were the case, he was thankful nonetheless.

He himself had gifted Neville a few muggle comics, and a couple books on physics for Professor Flitwick. Grandmother was harder to figure out, as she was never really a gift person, giving or receiving. He’d finally settled on transfiguring one of his unused quills into an impressive crystal paperweight. He’d practiced extensively, so it would last, and he’s sure she’ll appreciate the sentiment.

After he packed everything away, he left for breakfast, admiring the fully decorated Christmas tree in the common room on his way out.  
  
The Great Hall that morning was mostly empty, as everyone had left for their homes to spend Christmas with their families. Benjamin hadn’t gone back home—Grandmother was spending the holidays at a hotel, having won a free stay. Not that he minded—he was happy to spend more time in Hogwarts.

Finishing his breakfast quickly, he exited the hall, walking briskly towards the Room of Requirement.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

The grating voice stopped Benjamin in his tracks, and he turned around slowly. 

Filch looked just as mean as he usually did, Mrs. Norris at his side. 

“Pardon me?” 

Filch sneered, “Don’t act smart with me! You’re off to make some trouble, aren’t you? Thought you would do it when no one was around, did you? Well, let me—Hey!”

Benjamin sprinted off, leaving the caretaker behind. He could hear Filch chase after him, yelling out obscenities. He made a sharp turn, drawing distance between them, picking up his pace. His feet pounded on the cold stone and he breathed in the crisp air, a giddy feeling bubbling up in his chest, releasing itself into an exuberant laugh.

This was fun.

The tapestry was straight ahead, and Filch was a considerable distance behind him. He stopped in front of it, and, taking a deep breath, started pacing back and forth.

_I need a room to study and experiment with magic._

_I need a room to study and experiment with magic._

_I need a room to study and experiment with magic_.

There was a faint rumbling sound and a door materialized opposite the tapestry, opening slowly. Benjamin entered quickly, Filch’s rapid footsteps growing closer. The door closed and, holding his breath, he placed his ear on it.

Nothing.

Benjamin sighed, leaning onto the door, trying to even his breathing. He really needed to exercise more.

Slowly, he turned to observe the room, brushing a stray hair out of his eyes. The room was big, with multiple armchairs surrounding a low table in the middle, right next to a small fireplace. There was even an empty space, occupied by a few dummies off to the side, presumably for spell practice, along with a pile of cushions. The best part was the desk—placed against a wall lined with huge bookshelves, it was dark and large, with papers and quills on its surface. Benjamin walked up to it, running his hand over the hard wood.

_First things first_ , he thought, taking off his robe and placing it on the desk. He rolled up his sleeves, taking out his wand and pointing it at one of the dummies.

_Let’s see what I can do._

  
_____________________________


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Benjamin let out a sigh, throwing himself onto the cushion pile, sinking into the softness. He threw back his head, wincing as he felt a stab of pain run through him. His muscles ached, his hand had cramped around his wand, and he’s pretty sure his eyes were bloodshot. 

This sucked ass.

He’d been practicing the _protego_ charm intensively, putting up the shielding spell for...—well, he didn’t really know how long—he hadn’t thought to keep track. The mannequins had done their jobs perfectly, attacking him with wooden blocks from every direction, not letting up for even a moment. He felt the painful bruises forming on his arms from all the times he’d thrown them up, trying to protect himself whenever he was too slow to cast the charm.

He had improved, though there wasn’t much to improve upon. He’d done it practically perfectly on his first try (Not to toot his own horn or anything.), but now he could cast the spell much faster than when he’d started. 

Benjamin sat up slightly, rubbing his hand, trying to relieve some of the tension that had built up. He gripped his wand loosely, focusing on the image of a faint light. 

The tip of his wand lit up, and Benjamin waved it, watching the trail of light as he moved his wand. He stared into space, his brain working through the things he’d learned so far.

First. Magic—to him—was ridiculously easy. He had no idea why, and—honestly, it was kind of annoying. He’d read enough shitty fanfictions in his last life to know that he did not want to be a Gary Stu. Unfortunately, until he looked more in depth into the whys and hows—that would be his reality. He won’t look a gift horse in the mouth though, and Benjamin reminded himself not to get too full of himself.

Second. Incantations weren’t necessary, really, when you think about. After all, there were many languages in the world—and Benjamin doubted that they all used Latin. He suspected that incantations were mainly for concentration, and not particularly important. Now—why people found it so difficult to do magic without them was another thing that he hadn’t figured out yet. 

Third. Magic was... _frustrating_. It wasn’t an inanimate thing. It was something with a strange will of its own, something that he doubted anyone could ever fully control—just guide. He could feel it twisting and rushing and spinning in his body when he concentrated, as he tried to make sense of what in the heck magic actually was. Some people had it, some people didn’t. But _why_? Why was magic available to some but not others? What _was_ magic, anyway? Where did it originate? _How_ did it come into being? Was it something that was always around? And if that was the case, how did people in ancient times handle it? What kind of spells did they use before Latin existed? Did they use incantations, or is that a recent thing? 

The more he thought, the more questions started to pile up, and the more his head pounded. Benjamin rubbed at his temples, his eyes locked onto his still illuminated wand. He waved the wand, vanishing the light as he pulled his magic away from it. 

Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way. Perhaps he was asking too many questions. After all, the world of Harry Potter was a children’s book. Was it really supposed to be that complicated?

_‘Complicated or not—this is real. This is a universe—a world—that exists. Whether J.K Rowling intended for it to have depth or not, that doesn’t really matter._ ’ Benjamin rose up from the cushions, stashing his wand in his pocket. He’d been in the Room for long enough, he decided, hunger starting to make itself known. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he still needed to eat.   
  
As he was about to make his way over to the door—he stopped. Maybe...he didn’t need to leave. Benjamin cleared his throat.

“Can I...have some food?”

There was a faint ‘pop!’ behind him, and Benjamin turned to the desk, finding a spread of sandwiches, eggs, sausages, and more. Perhaps a bit more than he needed for now, but he could stretch it over the course of the rest of the day. He was glad for the convenience, and he planned to take advantage of the room’s accommodations until evening. 

He had plenty of time.

___________________________

Benjamin spent the rest of his Christmas locked in a room—practicing magic, reading books on magic theory, and trying not to get knocked out by magic mannequins. All in all, it was a good time—but he worried that someone would notice he was missing if he didn’t hurry back, so he closed a copy of _Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs_ , a book that had caught his eye. It had reminded him of the Slytherin common room, with its windows submerged underwater, and he wondered if the merpeople ever showed themselves. It would be interesting to see what they were like.

“May I have the time, please?”, Benjamin spoke, pushing the book into the bookshelf. A wooden clock appeared over the desk, and Benjamin almost tripped as he observed the clock face. He’d been in here for longer than he’d thought. He swiftly hopped over the cushions as he made his way over to the door, grabbing his robe off the desk as he passed. The door was easy to pry open, and he held his breath as he peered into the hall. It was dark, with only a faint flickering light coming from the lanterns hanging from the walls. 

Filch was out there—a disheartening fact that Benjamin berated himself over. He really should have kept an eye on the time. And as he walked out into the dimly lit hall, he prayed that his growing friendship(?) with Mrs. Norris would pay off.

As Benjamin made his way down, sticking to the walls as he sneaked through the corridors, he jumped at the slightest whisper, and hurriedly shushed a confused picture of an old wizard. He could feel the portraits’ painted eyes on him as he walked away. 

“They can’t be far, we’ll catch them.”

Benjamin cringed at the sound of Snape’s nasally voice, his eyes darting. He walked briskly into an open room, closing the door quietly behind him, trying to catch his breath. 

That was an awfully close call.

“Benjamin?”

Benjamin turned towards the voice, his eyes landing on Harry. The boy was in front of a large mirror, standing so close to it, his nose was almost touching the glass. Harry backed away from the it, watching him with a questioning look. 

“Oh, um—Harry! Hey.”, Benjamin coughed, tearing his eyes away from the mirror.

“What are you doing here?”, Harry asked. 

Benjamin rubbed at his arms, feeling goosebumps forming beneath his sleeves. He approached Harry, making sure not to look into the glass behind him. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Harry shuffled his feet, nervously fiddling with the cloak in his hands. Benjamin tilted his head.

“What’s that?”

Harry bunched up the cloak, looking to the side, his forehead creasing. “It’s nothing. I bought it along ‘cause it was cold.”

Benjamin quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms, but decided to let it go. He wouldn’t tell anyone about his invisibility cloak if he had one either. He glanced up at the top of the mirror, careful not to look into its surface.

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

How creative. Mirrored writing carved onto a mirror.

“I show not your face, but your heart’s desire.” 

Benjamin hummed, looking back to Harry, who frowned. “Is that what it says at the top?”

Benjamin nodded. Harry peered into the mirror, looking at something that would have been standing behind him, though nothing was there. His eyes were misty, a hopeful expression on his face. 

Benjamin cleared his throat, feeling sympathetic. While he understood the boy’s longing—the mirror made him uncomfortable. He’d rather not look into it if he could help it, and the more time he spent in its presence, the more he suspected he would eventually give into his curiosity. 

“We should probably head back, before Filch finds us.”, he spoke up. Harry teared his gaze away from the mirror, looking at Benjamin with a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry—you’re right. How about I go first? It’ll be easier if we take turns.” Harry suggested, discreetly glancing down at his cloak. 

“I mean—sure. After you, I guess.” Benjamin gestured to the door, stepping aside as Harry moved towards the door.

Harry stalled, turning back to Benjamin, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Benjamin smiled, cocking his head. He made note of Harry’s distracted disposition, and hoped the boy didn’t stay like this for long.

“Of course.”

Harry smiled back, walking out into the hall. Benjamin neared the door, pressing his ear against the hard wood to try and catch the sound of footsteps. Thankfully, Filch didn’t seem to be near. He waited a few minutes, just to be safe, before exiting the room. 

He didn’t look back.

__________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back (•̀ᴗ•́)و!! I’ve been feeling a bit unmotivated, but thankfully, I managed to get this chapter out! No worries tho, I’ll try to find a way to upload consistently. 
> 
> Anywho... what do y’all think? I have a lot of magic related headcanons—some my own, and some I picked up via social osmosis—and I can’t wait to explore all of them!! If there’s something in particular y’all would like to see explored, don’t hesitate to let me know!


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